How the Hunger Games Should Have Ended
by FuneralCricket
Summary: Alternate ending to the Hunger Games. Katniss and Peeta swallow the berries, and continues on afterward in Prim's POV. Rated T for some violence.
1. Chapter 1

Claudius Templesmith's voice booms into the arena. "Greetings to the final contestants of the 74th Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."

A burst of static, and then silence.

I don't believe it. It should have been obvious from the start. They never intended to let us both live. Watching the star-crossed lovers bond together and then have to kill each other is sure to be the most dramatic showdown in the history of the Games.

I can't even look at Peeta. I collapse to my knees and bury my face in my hands. I don't care anymore about looking strong for the cameras. Peeta bends down and whispers, "It isn't that surprising, you know."

I pick up my bow, which I've dropped. I see Peeta out of the corner of my eye, pulling out his knife, and then he throws it away, into the lake. I'm about to throw away my weapons away too, but he gently clamps his hand on my hold on the bow, and he shakes his head. "No. Do it."

"No!" I cry. If anything's worse than my killing him intentionally, it's him encouraging me to do it.

"Do it. I don't need a death like Cato's."

I look him fully in the eye. "Then you go ahead and shoot me! You shoot me and go home and live with it!"

And I know that there's no sense in arguing, because neither of us can do it. Finally, I understand. I never could marry Peeta, but I can't kill him.

"Rue…" I choke out.

He cocks his head at me, not sure what I mean. "Her last request… other than asking me to sing… was that I would win. And I told her I would… that I would win for both of us. Her and me."

I'm crying now, but there's no more use trying to hide it. Because there is no winning in the Hunger Games. You're the last one standing and you go home and there is food and plenty for the rest of your life, but so what? You've killed people, without a doubt. None of your family, your friends, even yourself is safe from being reaped. And the Hunger Games continue on, 23 people dying each year. So what has anyone gained?

I promised Rue I would win though, and I can't break that promise, not when I made it to her on her deathbed. But I've already decided that being the last one standing is not winning. Then I remember I also vowed to myself to make her loss unforgettable, and therefore to make myself unforgettable, so that all will remember her. If I can just find a way to make myself unforgettable…

Peeta shakes me, jarring me out of my thoughts. "We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us."

And then it strikes me. They need a victor. Without one the Gamemakers have failed the Capitol. One district having one survivor is how they keep the districts from reuniting and starting another war, and the Games also provide some actual entertainment—who will win?

But if Peeta and I were both to die…

Then we will have truly won the Games. My hand goes to my belt and I unfasten the leather pouch. Peeta sees this and hisses, "No, I won't let you!"

I shake off his hands and open the pouch. "You're right," I say. I dig out a handful of berries and shake some into his hand. "Why should they have a victor?"

His eyes slowly move, from my hand to the pouch to the berries in his hand. And then he looks up, and nods his head. "On the count of three," he says simply.

I nod, but first I must do something. I turn, face the wood and press my middle three fingers to my lips and then hold it out into empty air. I think of Prim and my mother, who are probably horrorstruck, but I know this is a better way. I will help them more this way than by winning. By living I give them food. By dying I give them a chance to eliminate the Games, a chance. Funny—I used to focus so much on eliminating starvation, thinking food—meat, plants, water—was how to survive. But now I see. This way, I can give them a chance to really live.

For the screens, I say out loud, "For Rue. For you, Prim. And for you too, Mother. I'm sorry. I love all of you."

I know the rest of Panem is hearing, but this is the only way I can say anything to them. Then I turn back to Peeta, and he kisses me once, very slowly. Then we stand with our backs pressed together. I squeeze his empty hand as a good-bye. We begin counting. "One." The trumpets begin to blare, but we don't stop. "Two."

Then Claudius Templesmith's voice shouts, clearly beside himself with panic. "Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you—the tributes of District Twelve!"

I roll my eyes. I laugh coldly and say aloud, "There is no victor in this Games." Then I shout with Peeta, "Three!"

The hovercraft is descending, but I don't pay any attention to it. The berries pass my lips and I begin crunching…

And then my world goes black, as I fall.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm helpless to do anything, as I watch Katniss and Peeta swallow the berries and then fall. The cannons automatically go off, and the hovercrafts come to retrieve the bodies. Soon their bodies will arrive in wooden boxes, and to be buried in the tribute graveyard, next to the other victor, long dead.

I'm standing in the square, staring at the Cornucopia on the big screen, one arm clamped around my mother, the other hand holding onto Gale's. All of District Twelve is silent, unsure what to do. I try to stay composed, but great sobs are heaving through my body, and memories of my father's death are coming back to my mind, raw and fresh as they haven't been in years.

Katniss—the one who volunteered for me, the one who wouln't let me sign up for tesserae, the one who hunted for me and always put me first, before even herself. And now, she's gone, died like the hundreds of others in the Hunger Games. Dead, like my father.

Katniss. Father. Katniss. Father. I finally break down, and so does my mother. We cling to each other, wrapping our arms and crying there in the crowded square. We're not the only ones. Many people are gasping, as the shock wears off, and some are blowing their noses.

Suddenly, the image on the big screens fizzles and then cuts to a broadcast of President Snow. "Good evening to the districts of Panem. Unfortunately, I must report that there will be no victor of the 74th Hunger Games. Moments after being declared victors, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark—both from District Twelve—committed suicide by eating nightlock."

Nightlock. The word stirs a memory… something Katniss mentioned years ago, while looking through my father's book of plants. Some kind of poisonous berry. So that's how she died—nightlock. Snow continues, "The Capitol is in the process of deciding what action to take next. In the meantime, Peacekeepers in District Twelve, please escort the families of the tributes to the Justice Building, where I will be meeting them shortly. Good evening. "

Then the screens go blank, leaving the square dark. Peacekeepers usher us through the dark to the Justice Building. My mother and I are herded into the doorway, along with the Mellarks—the mother sobbing violently, as the father puts an arm around her, Peeta's older brothers' faces numb with disbelief under their dirty blond hair.

Mother and I take the same room we said good-bye to Katniss in. I ball up on the bed, trying to block out the place where I last spoke to my sister, my head in my knees. Why would I ever want to return to the real world? Katniss and my father are dead. The protectors of the family. _You still have your mother_ a voice in my head tells me. I scream inside, _She's a healer, not a hunter!_ Immediately I feel guilty at the thought. But my head hurts so much, what with my grief and memories of my father that I have no energy to think about anything else.

I start as the door opens and Gale comes in. I look up, his large, muscular figure blurred through my tears. "Why are you here?"

I wipe away my tears as Gale collapses on the bed. It's clear he's been crying too. "Told them I'm your cousin."

I remember, somewhat dimly, how similar Katniss and Gale look—the same blackish-brown hair, same olive skin, same gray eyes. Gale wraps an arm around me. "Look, Prim..."

He trails off, unable to find words. I suddenly remember Katniss, after Father died, how strong she always was, hiding the pain, trying to find food. She was eleven, not much younger than I am now. She trekked out into the rain, trying to find something to keep us alive, and here I am, curled up on a bed and crying, not even trying to comfort my mother, who fled to the bathroom the moment the Peacekeepers closed the door. Instantly, the tears stop flowing and shame hunches my body.

Well, it's not too late to recoup what I can. I sit up on the edge of the bed and say, "What's on your mind, Gale?"

He doesn't respond, trying to contain himself. Finally he turns to me and shakes his head. "No, what are you thinking?"

My deepest guilt, hidden inside me, is what I want to tell him, but I feel childish saying it out loud. But Gale's eyes—gray, like Katniss's—are so kind that it spills out of my mouth. "It's my fault Katniss died. Because she volunteered for me."

Gale puts an arm around me. "Look, Prim, it wasn't your fault. You were twelve, with your name in just once. And you didn't sign up for tesserae, right? Katniss did."

I nod, sniffling. Gale continues, "You did everything within your power to ensure you were just one among thousands. But the odds weren't in our favor. Your name came out, and Katniss volunteered, as I'm sure she'd have all along."

I knew that, but it still doesn't help. Gale's words have taken the edge of my guilt, though, and I snuggle up on the bed. "What's going to happen next?"

Gale shrugs and says, "That thing… that thing they did with the berries…. Why?"


	3. Chapter 3

The red plaid dress I'm wearing scratches my legs and makes me hunch over, because it's way too small for me. President Snow sits across the table from me, smiling like a snake. He scares me, but I will not let him. Katniss would not have. She would have looked him in the eye and answered right back. So that's what I will do.

Mother's sitting behind me, hands folded tightly in her lap, one leg pressed on top of another. I forced her into her best dress and made her do up her hair in a respectable bun. President Snow addresses me, "I think we'll make this situation a lot easier by agreeing not to lie to each other. Agreed?"

I nod my head, trying to appear curt. President Snow says, "Thank you. I'm sure you know what I'd like to talk about with you, am I correct?"

Gale told me this. He explained it to me as best as he could, trying to say how Katniss's eating the berries was an act of defiance, because she refused to kill Peeta and instead refused to give the Gamemakers a victor. How she tried to defy the Capitol by burying Rue in flowers. He explained until I understood. I'm not going to make things any easier for President Snow either, so I shake my head, indicating I need an explanation.

He raises an eyebrow; clearly he knows I'm not going to play along. He tries, "Well, your sister is dead, and you know very well what that means, don't you?"

Again I shake my head. He says, "Well then. I have a problem, to do with your sister. Specifically to do with those nightlock. Ever since your sister died two days ago, there have been uprisings in the Districts and the Capitol. The Capitol is upset about there not being a victor, and the mood has been perceptibly less amicable. The Districts are starting to rebel. Oh, small, small things. But it's the small acts that count."

Finally I speak. "So everyone is upset because there's no victor. And there must be a victor, because that's how you keep the Districts from uniting again and rebelling."

Snow smiles. "Very sharp, very sharp, Miss Everdeen. That is the point. Now, to one as young as you, it may not matter why your sister died—"

I say bluntly, "It does. Gale Hawthorne—my cousin—explained it to me. He said that you need Panem to think they did it because they were madly in love, otherwise they'll know it was an act of defiance, and that'll push them over the edge and rebel."

He nods. "Very good. And rebellion is churning. So, I have a problem. It's that Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, has provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem. You, as her younger sister, must help me fan the flames and quench them."

If Katniss hadn't eaten the berries, she'd be here, and Snow would be making threats to her. What would she say? What would she say? I search desperately. She wouldn't be scared, answering him as bluntly as she could. So I say, "Why don't you just kill me now?"

Behind me, Mother gasps. I expect President Snow to strangle me with his bare hands on the spot, but he just smiles. "You're her little sister. She volunteered for you at the reaping. She declared she loved you at her interview. If I killed you, I'd be adding an ocean of fuel to the flames. So that's not an option."

"Then what's your request?" I demand.

"I know that sweet little romance plot was just an act. And you've got to convince Panem that it wasn't. So on the Victory Tour, in six months, you will take her place and confirm this. Otherwise…. I have ways to ensure you have no other option."

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!"


End file.
